It was the most frustrating feeling for Milena to keep a human's pace as she sprinted through Central Park. She wanted nothing more than to break out in a full out gallop when she knew her stronger wolf legs could carry her home faster. And into Natasha's arms...
"God damn why does this park have to be so big?" she cursed to herself as she slowed down where four different paths met. She hadn't been thinking when she ran off. She had just wanted to get as far away as possible from everyone and it distracted her from paying attention to where she was headed. She only took a few moments to carefully sniff the air. Her senses weren't nearly as great as they were in her other form, but they were still heightened immensely. Clint's scent led her towards the left and over a bridge. He must've come from this way.
She didn't care how bizarre she must've looked sprinting full speed in a ball gown with her hair probably looking like a demolished birds nest. Natasha wanted her and so she needed to be there. And so everything was meaningless to her in that moment. It was like the world around her was only moving in this agonizing slow motion; the only sound she could hear was her heart beat dragging on and on. Nothing mattered to her except getting where she wanted to be, but that was exactly her mistake.
Maybe she would have heard him rustling in the bushes if she weren't so distracted. Or maybe she would have picked up the scent of fresh blood on his knuckles before it was too late. But the case that turned out to be was the one in which suddenly the petite brunette noticed the ground under her was no longer there; she was falling uncontrollably as she flailed around in the netting that stuck to her. The last thing she remembered after being dragged into the darkness was a sharp pain in her neck and screaming for Natasha to save her.
She felt as if she had been sleeping for days, but yet her eyes were so heavy. The blinding light that also burned the surface of her skin was nearly impossible to ignore, but her eyelids and pounding head begged to sleep some more. Then she remembered Natasha. Her eyes flew open and she jerked up instantly. Her hand felt around her on the ground for anything that might be there, but it only impacted with concrete. It felt like she was being stung behind her eyes and the lights didn't make it any more comfortable, but soon she focused on her surroundings and tried to take it all in calmly like she was trained. Three concrete walls. One made of steel bars. Prison cell. Minimum defenses. "Yes, yes!" she said to herself. She could get out of this easily, or really, her "buddy" could. Milena stood up almost a little too fast and that only made her headache worse. She could hear people coming so the transformation had to be now.
"It's not going to work," a heavy voice echoed off the walls. Going up to the bars to confront the stranger, Milena wanted him to be wrong, but had a feeling he was right. He was dressed in all black (how original) and had his hair slicked back so that his chiseled, yet intimidating, face was exposed, but so was a deep scar that ran across his left cheek. He had an amused smile on his face and Milena felt a low rumbling in her throat. "This," he held up a small glass tube. It had something blue in it. "This serum isn't going to let you transform I'm afraid, so it looks like you're stuck here with me."
"Wha.. What do you want?" her voice was hoarse and she strained her throat just to get out of a couple words. She knew she should have tried to be stronger, but she was caught in a position where she couldn't be. Her heart sunk as the words slowly left her mouth. Natasha would have been ashamed of her. She was ashamed of her too.
But then his face broke out into a devilish smile that set chills running down her spine, and not the good kind. "My little pet, I wish to play a game."
The only time she knew it was another day was when he came in to inject her with the serum. There had been eight so far, but she was sure her entire neck was bruised. She had learned the hard way that resisting was a bad idea. He would order her to get down on all fours like the dog she was so that he could repeatedly kick her in the stomach. When she went down too slowly or refused, he stabbed her with the syringe in other places (usually her shoulder or her back) to force her down. It didn't just seem to prevent her from transforming, but when she felt the thick, burning liquid forcing itself through her bloodstream it seemed to weaken her body and her senses into a state of near-paralysis. She would stare at the ground emptily as he jammed her knees up into her abdomen, but it wasn't the pain that made her cry. No, it wasn't the pain. She let the tears roll down her eyes because she knew Natasha would never succumb to what she did. She felt so ashamed that she let herself be tortured.
"Good pet. That wasn't so bad was it?" he stroked the back of her head like a dog when she finally fell over defeated for the day. "No wonder the Avengers took you in so willingly. You're the most obedient mutt there is, but look." He kneeled down to look straight into her bloodshot yellow eyes. She brought her hands up towards her face to defend herself, but she knew there was no use. "I'm your master now, bitch."
The sound of his skull hitting the metal bars was the most satisfying thing she had heard in forever. She didn't know what came over her, but she liked it.
"Never let them call you that," Natasha had warned her one day when she had failed to prevent Milena from catching sight of a few nasty emails written about her.
"Why not?" Milena had been somewhere else at the time; she was drifting further and further away from Natasha then too. The world suddenly finding out about her after their most recent mission at the time hit her harder than Steve's shield had that one time she snuck up behind him during training. It was a big mistake. "It's what I am isn't it?!"
Surprisingly, Natasha only took in a deep breath and sighed calmly in reaction to Milena's raised voice. "Look at me," she grabbed her chin gently and made her look into those bright emerald eyes. "You're not /that/ because you're mine. And if you ever let them call /you/ that, you're letting them call /me/ that too."
"I'm sorry," she had sniffled as she fell into the crook of her neck.
In that moment that her leg had swooped under her imprisoner's she decided right then and there that she was done lying down. Being strong wasn't just the only chance she had at getting back to Natasha, but when she was strong she felt closer to her. The feeling of loneliness that had enveloped her as she laid down surrendering was gone as soon as she stood up. She was tired of feeling powerless so she let Natasha empower her; it made her fierce despite the serum trying physically to make her body heavy so that she would sink to the ground. Unfortunately, the moment didn't last nearly as long as she wanted it to.
Soon a dozen guns were pointed straight at her through the bars. Oh right, guards... She wasn't exactly in the position to be compromising as her captive drowsily pulled himself off the ground. His nose twitched as the thick blood running down it tickled his face. He cleaned it off with one hand sweep, never taking his eyes off of her own. Even standing up she noticed he still had at least a two feet height advantage. But she wasn't the one bleeding and she didn't plan to either.
"That is not very nice manners," he retorted when she instinctively flashed her teeth. Unfortunately, since they weren't razor sharp in her human form it wasn't as formidable as usual. "I have been such a good host to you, and how do you repay me as a guest? By spilling blood in my own house! Well, my pet, there is much more to spill."
All dozen of the guns clicked at the same time but Milena told herself to keep her feet in place. She wouldn't succumb to them any longer, no, she was tired of being tired. And if this was the end for her, she would rather go standing up against her enemies than kneeling down in front of them. She exhaled.
"Damn right," she heard a familiar voice call back followed by the sound of high pitched winds. In only three seconds all of the guards in front of her laid unconscious or dead. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a thin, long item poking out of one of their necks where the blood was spilling out.
"Clint!" she called out to the archer who had just saved her life as he emerged from the shadows with his signature smirk on his face. But he wasn't done yet. He still had one more locked in with his eyes focused on the figure behind her. One more arrow. One more shot.
Before she could turn around her body was pulled back in a sudden, forceful jolt. The feeling of her hands being locked together in a death grip made her whimper in pain, but as she tried to lean forward the soft skin on her neck met the cold blade of a knife. She held her breath but trembled in fear as she tried to look up and find Clint's eyes.
"I don't think you'll be making that shot now, Agent Barton," his low voice so close to her ear made her shiver.
"Don't hurt her," Clint breathed heavily from behind his teeth.
"Oooh, a little upset I see. She is pretty, don't you think so, Agent Barton? I wonder how she looks all dressed up in red." He pressed the blade up against her harder. She could feel her windpipe being compromised and he forced her to lift her head back.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Clint shook his head in warning and he seemed to pull the bow back more.
His laugh made her flinch at how demonic it sounded. "Oh then what would you make me do, Agent Barton?"
Suddenly a crashing noise above her shook the entire cell and as the man who imprisoned her fell backwards he released her from his hold and she fell forward, failing to catch herself. Gasping for air, she grabbed her throat as if making sure it was still there. But remembering to get back on her feet, as she blinked through the dust and picked herself up she spotted something almost glowing. That dark red hair. Those emerald green eyes.
"Let go of my girlfriend." she growled before the sound of electricity running jolted the man and he fell back down again. And then there she was- Natasha. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lip quivering like she was trying to hold in something as she marched right over his body to Milena and captured her entire body in both arms. The tears Milena was feeling in her eyes weren't from the dust or crying before. No, they were tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears of fear too. But at least now she knew the fear would end. As Natasha whispered comforting things to her and stroked the back of her head the way she wanted to be held gently, Milena suddenly realized she had called her her girlfriend and she started crying even harder.
"Natasha," she seemed to reassure herself that the redhead was real. And as she breathed in her familiar scent of everything she was, she relaxed a little more in her arms.
"Shhh," she kissed the top of her head. Natasha was also feeling a mixture of powerful emotions too. It had been over a week of staying awake trying to find her. It was a week of wanting to kill herself for so many reasons; one being that she had driven her away and gotten her into the mess she was in. It was a week of feeling like she would never find happiness ever again if she never got to see Milena's smile. It was a week of wanting Milena to be alright no matter what the cost. And now that week was over and Natasha couldn't believe she was safe in her arms again. And now she was never letting go.
